


The Parting of Ways

by GlowingMechanicalHeart



Series: Fictober20 [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Missing Scene, fictober20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/pseuds/GlowingMechanicalHeart
Summary: “I can’t do this anymore, Fëanáro.” Nerdanel breaks the silence, she’s given up. She’s given up on him, on them. It’s over. What it’s happening it’s unlike any of Eldar. Of course they had to be the first. Of course he had to be the one left behind twice. “I am leaving.”
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Fictober20 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974964
Kudos: 12
Collections: Fictober20





	The Parting of Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober-Event, prompts # 1.- no, come back! & 19: I can't do this anymore.

The screams and shouts have stopped. Words said in anger hang in the air, the house he shares with his father, sons for a time, his wife has a wounded feeling. Like that of a dying animal, one that he knows will not live long.

They both stare at each other, both tall and proud. Perhaps much too proud to avoid what he knows it’s coming. Whatever grief there is, it will come later, if it comes at all. For the time being, they only stare at each other in silence, measuring one another.

“I can’t do this anymore, Fëanáro.” Nerdanel breaks the silence, she’s given up. She’s given up on him, on them. It’s over. What it’s happening it’s unlike any of Eldar. Of course _they_ had to be the first. Of course _he_ had to be the one left behind twice. “I am leaving.”

His throat is dry and there’s a tightness in his chest, but anger and fire still burn inside him like an inferno he’s never quite been able to calm down. It was Nerdanel who did, but now, all signs point to her having found her limit. And now, she’s leaving.

“Fine,” he manages to spit out. The rage threatens to overwhelm him, so he simply stands aside. He will not beg, he’s much too proud to do so. Even if a small part of him wants to. He watches her make her way to their chamber, then he moves to his forge. It’s better he gets his anger out in there than against Nerdanel. That is something that even he knows he will never forgive himself if he does.

Inside his forge, he grabs his tools and begins working aimlessly. There’s no rhyme or reason to what he’s making, his mind swirling with a myriad of thoughts, none of them nice. So he works, he keeps his hands busy, for he knows that it’s the only way his mind will be blank and free of the anger. Physical work always did work well for him, while others pursued some sort calm meditative work, he needed to be moving, needed to be doing. 

The sound of the hammer hitting metal and anvil is an old song, one that he’s knows since his early youth; one that calms him and comforts him. Time passes, but not before long, Pityafinwë is there with him. “Atar, amil is leaving. Please, don’t let her go.”

He stills. What can he say? How can he look at his son and say admit that he’s failed, that the love he has for Nerdanel – and hers for him – has reached a breaking point. That she no longer has any patience left for him and he’s too angry and too proud to beg. That is better to part now, ugly as this is than make it worst. And oh, he knows it could be worse. He could make it worse.

“Leave her be, if she wishes to leave, let her.” Is all he manages. He never turns to look at his son, he continues working, until he can’t feel his son’s presence at his door. Only then, he lays down the hammer and makes for one of the windows. He watches as Nerdanel saddles a horse, both Telufinwë and Pityafinwë are there, pleading for her to stay.

The rest of his sons are also there, looking grim (Nelyafinwë), angry (Morifinwë) and resigned (Kanafinwë). Turkafinwë and Curufinwë stand shoulder to shoulder, his faces unreadable. Nerdanel mounts her horse and raises her head, their eyes meet for a second. He walks away from the window, he hears her order her horse forth.

He hides near the window and watches as Nerdanel leave. Even if there’s a small part of him that wants to chase her, saying, “No, come back!” But he doesn’t. He simply watches her leave, knowing that this is perhaps the last time they will be together. He doesn’t know if after his exile they may reconcile – he doubts it. Perhaps he has finally pushed Nerdanel beyond what she’s capable of forgiving.

He walks back to his forge, he does his best to get there before his sons get back inside. His anger has diminished, but it’s not truly gone. Back on his forge, he lifts the sword he was working on before, he observes it, it’s perfect. He catches his own reflection on the blade, he’s scowling, fair face marred with the remnants of the anger. He tosses the sword aside, the nearest object follows, the another. Moments later, his forge is a mess and most things are scattered on the floor.

He doesn’t cry.

He takes a deep breath, grabs a piece of mithril. His father could do with a new circlet. Perhaps he could do one with jewels. Opals and diamonds would suit his black hair. Doesn’t sit and sketch it, instead, he grabs his hammer, sets the mithril down on his anvil and begins working. The clang of metal taking his mind away from the fact that a part of his heart and soul are breaking. _She has left_. He lifts the hammer and slams it down with more force than he should. It's over.


End file.
